


Bound to You

by reebeegee



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 819, Almost a Blowjob, Alternate Universe - Magic, Bisexuality, Blessings, Consent, Crack, Curses, M/M, Magic, Mating Rituals, National Hockey League, Polyamory, SONBOY, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Sweaty men, Teamwork makes the dream work, True Love, Witches, braden hotby, no actual hockey, queen nicki, suck that dick sammyboy, thirsty bitches, unrealistic hockey rules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:41:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21998434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reebeegee/pseuds/reebeegee
Summary: Some call it a curse.
Relationships: Braden Holtby/Ilya Samsonov, Nicklas Backstrom/Alexander Ovechkin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 20
Collections: kbas secret santa 2019





	Bound to You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [awaiting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awaiting/gifts).



> I can't pretend to hide who wrote this. Miia will know just looking at the tags. So this is for my fellow Washington Capitalfucker. May your soul rest in pieces upon the completion of this fic. May our Queen be blessed with 5 more years. And may Braden Holtby be rewarded all the sucks. 
> 
> Here's to you, my hockey bitch, my buddy in hell, the ruiner of my hockey life. 
> 
> Happy holidays!
> 
> Bingo squares used: whatever you want, bisexuals everywhere, i'm a terrible person for writing this, quality free zone, thing you need a push to start, bizarro fiction, sports, experimental whatever, the whole fic is a joke, general trash, free space (yes here), idfic
> 
> ps: thank you to annie for proofreading this indulgent mess.

Queen and Ovi were long settled into their bed when they heard the screams from down the hall. On any other day, either of them would have given no thought to the noise, as it was customary for their wives to conduct several witchy rituals with voluminous high pitched squeals. But tonight was different. The wives were out of town on a business trip, no doubt plotting and executing an elaborate plan to prevent the Tampa Bay Lightning from winning their next game. Curses were common in magical ice hockey, and the Washington Capital Wives were a notorious coven of devious witches. 

But tonight, the screech was uncalled for. Hideous and drawn out at length. Ending in a growl. The sound rang throughout the house like a lone wolf’s howl on the eve of a full moon. Tonight was not a full moon, but a new moon. Fortuitous energy hung thickly in the air as the pair rose out of their bed and sauntered towards their bedroom door. 

“It could be a curse,” Ovechkin mused as he picked up their robes from the chair where they had been cast just hours ago. “Our wives aren’t the only ones out wreaking havoc tonight. There are seven other games to be played tomorrow evening.”

With an expert flick of his wrist, Ovi tossed a robe to Queen. Nicklas slid the silk garment over his naked shoulders and tied it across his waist just as furious knock began pounding on the door.

“Ovi, Queen Nicki, you have to help me!” It was their young goalie Samsonov, voice tight with worry.

“Come in,” said Queen. He was the epitome of composed as the young man burst through the door followed by several other teammates. 

Ovechkin clapped a hand firmly on Samsonov’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. Just calm down and tell us what’s wrong.”

Samsonov appeared beyond words. His grey eyes were spread wide with fear, pupils dilated like a cat high on the nip. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead. Hugging himself tightly, he stood there trembling. Behind him TJ and Carlson were giving their captain and Queen a determined expression. Lars and Seigenthaler exchanged a look. Wilson raised his brow and stared pointedly at Ovechkin and Nicklas, casual in their robes. 

This was no ordinary fear. This was the fear of commitment. 

“You have to help me. You have to,” Samsonov said after a silent minute. “It’s Holtby. Something’s wrong, I think? I just. I-”

“Take us to him,” Queen commanded. 

Turning on his heels, Samsonov fled down the hallway, the rest of the team, Queen, and Ovi not far behind. Three doors down on the right, Samsonov stopped and pushed open the door of Braden Holtby’s room. There on the bed, his eyes a blaze of parched desire, lay Holtby. The rich scent of magic filled the room. His clothes clung to him like he was fresh off the ice from a hard won game. It had to be The Thirst. No other force of nature could produce such a severe reaction in a hockey player, especially not a strong goalie like Holtby.

Queen turned his gaze to Samsonov, a knowing gleam in his eyes. Holtby was not the only teammate to have gone through The Thirst. It was a rare phenomena that some said lead you to your destiny. A soulmate of sorts. It was how he and Ovi had been bound together so many years ago. Some called it a curse that befell the men of ice and puck, set upon them by an evil witch of long ago. To Nicklas, Ovi, and their wives The Thirst had been a blessing of true unity. It had made the team stronger. A family. Without the bond, opposing teams even speculated they never could have won the Stanley Cup. It had taken time for the bond to come into fruition between them, but once it had there was no stopping them. The Thirst was what had kept their team together for so long.

Now, staring down a familiar sight, Nicklas and Ovechkin let out a sigh of relief and excitement. Holtby and Samsonov would be unstoppable together. They had won the Stanley Cup once, perhaps now they could win it again. But, more importantly, with trades and salary cuts looming heavy in the distance, they knew that Samsonov and Holtby would be saved. Dividing those that had undergone the rituals of The Thirst was sacrilege amongst NHL rules. If you traded one, you had to trade the other with them. And unless you pried Holtby and Samsonov from Todd Reirden’s cold, dead hands, it was certain that the pair would never leave the team roster.

“You’ve heard of The Thirst, Samsonov,” Ovechkin said gently. 

“Ye-s. I. Yes.” Samsonov stuttered and clutched a hand to his heart. He turned his gaze away from the pained man on the bed to Ovi. “But I thought it was only a rumor. I never thought that it would be for me.”

“Then you must know the rumors about Alexander and myself.” Niklas pressed forward in the crowded room to grab Ovechkin’s hand in his, locking their fingers together in a loving grip.

On the bed, Holtby let out a restrained groan. Only a man of such poise and consent could have been capable of holding himself back enough to pounce on his bonded partner. Holtby was the epitome respect, even under a spell. It made sense that the urge to drink in what was his had manifested so strongly in himself before Samsonov. He knew of The Thirst and how it worked, having witnessed the joining of Queen Nicki and Captain Ovechkin. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Holtby said wearly. 

With great effort, Holtby pushed himself up off of the bed and stood before Samsonov. He reached for Samsonov’s hand, but stopped, worried that if he made contact he wouldn’t be able to let go. Oshie and Wilson tucked themselves into Holtby’s side, holding him upright as he swayed with need. 

Samsonov regarded Holtby with awe. How was it that this beautiful creature before him, one of the best goalies in the entire league, was meant for him?

“No,” Samsonov whispered. He stretched out his hand and placed it firmly on Holtby’s muscled chest, sending sparks through them. “I want this. I want you.”

At that, the magic in the air snapped, and with it the men all released a breath of relief. 

“Right then.” Ovechkin moved toward Holtby. With a command in his voice he addressed Oshie and Wilson, “Strip him.”

Samsonov couldn’t turn his gaze away as his teammates began to remove him of his clothes. 

Queen approached Samsonov from behind and lay a hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

“On your knees, Samsonov. It’s time you two quenched your thirst for each other. It’s time to solidify your bond.”


End file.
